


The Courting Game

by songofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, demonic courting ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: You know, I'm sure there must be some rules to demon courting Dean knows nothing about and Crowley unconsciously follows when trying to woo Dean :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Courting Game

“What the fuck?”

Dean stared at the sight before him for several seconds before his phone began going off. “Sam?” he answered.

“You kill it?”

_“Someone_ did.” 

“What?” Sam sounded not quite as baffled as Dean felt.

“I just walked in and he was dead.” He walked forward to stand over the corpse of the rugaru, inspecting the killer’s handiwork.

“So there’s another hunter in town?”

“I... don’t think so. Unless he wanted to be really thorough.” Not only was the guy burned it a crisp, but he was also decapitated with some kind of fancy knife sticking out of the top of his head. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he saw a slip of paper tied to the hilt of the knife. He reached down and carefully pulled it free of the rugaru skull. The knife itself was a silver athame with a black hilt; a pentagram was set where the blade met the hilt, and at the top was a smokey ruby. Written on the slip of paper was one word.

“Well, it’s dead, that’s what matters, right?” Sam went on. 

Dean barely heard him as he stared at the note, trying to figure out the meaning of this. Was it some kind of ritual? To what end?

“Right, Dean?” Sam asked again when he got no response.

“Oh, uh... right...” He tore his eyes away from where his name was written in neat, elegant handwriting. No need to worry Sam about it when he didn’t know what was going on... it could be nothing. What he did know for sure was that he needed to get out of there before authorities started showing up. He slipped the athame into his jacket as he walked out the door. “I think I’m going to stay in town for the night... just to make sure there’s nothing else going on.”

“Do you want me to come down?”

“No. It’s probably nothing, I just want to be sure.”

“Okay, well, call me if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.” 

When he got back to the motel he was staying at, he drew out the athame to inspect it some more, but he couldn’t come up with anything new. He kept waiting to start feeling sick or to just drop dead, but nothing happened. Maybe it was all a joke, he began to think as he got into bed.

He had just started to doze off when a noise made him spring up, automatically reaching for the closest weapon, which happened to be the athame sitting on the nightstand. 

_“Crowley?”_ He demanded once his eyes adjusted enough to make out the demon on the other side of the bed, standing as though he was about to join him. He lowered the knife. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Crowley actually looked... nervous? Was that what it was? It was certainly an expression that Dean had never seen on that face before. The King of Hell’s eyes flickered down to the knife and then back up to the hunter’s face. “That’s my athame.”

Dean blinked in half-asleep confusion. “You killed the rugaru?”

“Naturally.” He sat down on the bed beside Dean, fixing him with a steady gaze, an eyebrow arched expectantly.

“Alright... I’m missing something, here.”

Crowley sighed exasperatedly. “Do I have to spell out everything for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m courting you, you moron.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re... _what?”  
_

“I thought it was fairly self-explanatory. But then again, it is you.” He shook his head. “It’s a demonic courting ritual. You kill someone your intended wants dead and leave them your favorite knife in the decapitated head. If they are satisfied with the kill, then they accept the knife and you are invited to bed.”

Dean’s jaw dropped as he listened to the explanation. “Oh right... how could I possibly misinterpret that? Clear as day.... Wait, I invited you to _bed?”  
_

Crowley glared sourly at the wall in front of him. “Well, technically there is a second part of the ritual. The intended either keeps the knife and you enter into a relationship, or... kills you with your own knife.”

Dean stared at him for a few moments more. “Only demons would have a fucked up courting ritual like that.”

“Very few demons ever have any interest in courting, so it’s rarely actually used.”

“But you do have an interest in courting... me?”

Crowley just nodded without looking at him.

“This athame... it can actually kill you?”

He hesitated. “One of the very few that can.”

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. Holy shit... Crowley was actually putting his life in his hands. He could kill the King of Hell right then and there. Hell, that was probably what he _should_ do. But... Crowley actually _liked_ him. Quite a lot, otherwise he wouldn’t be risking his life like this. Maybe that was why demons courted like this - who would ever believe a demon’s intentions were honest unless they were willing to risk themself for it?

He turned slowly and set the athame back down on the nightstand, and when he turned back Crowley was facing him again with wide eyes. “You thought I would kill you?”

“It was starting to seem like it.”

“Well, I had to weigh my options.”

The corner of Crowley’s lips quirked up. “And you’d rather date me than kill me?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

The half-smile disappeared and he sighed. “You didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted the athame. You could just give it back and we both walk away.”

“Yeah, but it’s a _really_ nice athame,” Dean protested with a wry grin. “I’m not sure I want to give it up.”

Crowley laughed. “That’s what it comes down to, is it?”

He smiled. "Well... that’s all you’re getting me to admit to, anyway.”

Crowley smirked. “We’ll see about that.” And without further ado, he grabbed Dean by the collar and pulled him into a kiss.


End file.
